Im Here To Ask For Some Riddler Hc With A Male S/o

having eddie to lay in between your bare thighs with nothing on him, just a pair of batman boxers while he plays a video game letting u play with his hair and massage his head then he gets all whiny and grouchy when you stop while he lifts his leg only to drop it back down in a childish way, so he pauses the game and blindly reaching back to find your hand before plopping it back on top of his head

Patience is the key to success (1)

Masterlist if you want to read my others things. Part 2 here.

Well at first it was good, but I read it and reread it so many time that I have no notion of what's good anymore. and now i feel like Ethan is out of character. it was better in my head. This is hella longer that I thought it'd be??? (8 404 words)

it was supposed to be one really long story but I decided to split it up in 2 parts even tho I hate to do that. the second part will be long too and a direct continuation of this.

CW/TW: yandere-manipulative-obsessive-stalker-ethan, fem reader, smut, no p in v, reader is only called y/n once

he looks nice but don't be fool, he plays it stealth

"Hello ?" you yell, voice filled with uncertainty while waving at your open window.

Was that someone down there ? The outline of the shape move, as if startled, seemingly surprised. Then, they look behind them, maybe to be sure you were talking to them, before eagerly waving back. Fuck, it is someone.

It was impossible to see their face, though. Whoever that was was wearing an all black outfit with a black hood as well. And they were standing in the shadow of the night.

The stranger puts his hands in his pockets and wait. So you watch him and wait, too.

Do I know them ? Why aren't they saying anything... Maybe they're just waiting for someone ? You shrug before closing your curtains. Weirdly enough, you could still see their shape outside. They hadn't moved nor turned their head.

They were definitely staring at you. But why? It was late in the night, many were coming out of parties. So you didn't think much of it. Plus, it was possible that the stranger wanted to buy drugs and this street was the best option they had. Is that even a thing in this street ? Buying drugs ? Here ? You didn't know.

But this scenario continued for six days after. In fact, it probably was happening for far much longer before you noticed. Every night from now on, the creep would come below your window and watch you.

Hopefully, you lived on the third floor. They couldn't escalate (yeah, you had to think of the worst cases scenario). You even asked your neighbour from below if he knew something but he told you he wasn't even aware of a person wandering outside. He said that his window giving to that alley was in a room in which he wasn't going to really often.

You were the only one aware of that creepy stalker. Well, the only one to be worried anyway. It's not like they were bothering other neighbors. It was you they were making fun of.

Tonight, they were here again. As usual. This time though, they had a sign in hand. The sign was directed towards the ground. Observing them from behind your curtain, you frown your brows when understanding they wouldn't show you what was on it.

They wanted to see you, after all.

So you begrudgingly came out from your hiding place and revealed yourself to them. Immediately, the stalker raise both his hands to show you their cardboard sign. On it, three simple words in capital letters.

"(y/n) marry me."

You feel you blood go cold. A shiver run down your spine and you quickly close your curtains again. What the hell ? You don't even know them! You still see them, their sign is kept up the air and they start to jump on place, as if to show you more of it. How the fuck do they know you name ? Whoever is this needs to be in fucking jail because there is no way this is funny.

They suddenly turn their sign. You can discern new words, different from the preceding ones. Though, you can't read them. So you slide your curtains open, not entirely, staying hidden behind the wall.

"Let me be with you."

And finally, you decided that that was it. It was the last time you'd see that creep. Fuck he knew your name ! Your damn name ! What the fuck ?

Twenty four day later, you're here. In your friend's building, panicking, sweating. You rushed to the stairs, praying that she was here, this time. Your friend, your best friend. You needed her but she wasn't answering. You called her, multiple times. Her boyfriend too but.. It's like she had ghosted you ! Her boyfriend wasn't even answering either and you were starting to freak out. Having going the week imagining the worst case scenario and each time you ended up calling her again after several nightmares.

You stumble on someone in your rush, the bag he had in hand falling on the ground in a rustling sound, all his groceries dropping in the process. You apologize briefly. You didn't even had time to know who was the poor stranger, too preoccupied. A neighbor, probably. With curly hairs. You had to remember him. You'll properly apologize later, when you're not in such a rush anymore. Fuck, you seemed so impolite !

You take out your phone for the umpteenth time this day and go straight into your contact. You call your friend once again, praying she would answer this time. Obvisously, it's not the case. You do he same for her boyfriend, in vain.

You stop abrutly before her door then ring. Nothing. No sound coming from inside. So you start pounding on it with your fist.

"Its me, open please ! I'm sorry if I hurt you, I'm worried ! Please let me in!"

You only stopped yourself from destroying the door at the appearance of an angry neighbor, yelling at you to calm down. You asked them if they happen to know if your friend was in there, which they answer by sighing before saying that they didn't care about the neighborhood and slamming the door.

This time, you rush all the way down. Your phone still in hand, calling her on loop. Concierge's lodge was where you were going. He was supposed to own every key of each apartment here. You didn't need to go burst his door since you stumble on him in the hall. You briefly knew him, mostly at sight. You didn't know his name, but it wasn't necessary anyway. You greet him, breathless and probably disheveled. You explain the situation as much as you can, telling him the name of your friend, her floor and apartment's number.

Despite your panicked state, he doesn't pity you. In fact, he stayed jaded during your whole narrative.

"I'm sorry but I can't force open someone's house without a proper reason. He shrugs.

-But I'm worried and-and she hasn't answered any of my messages for days! Her family is worried sick too!

It was a lie. You didn't know her family that well, just by name. But he needed to understand !

-She is depressed and may have already hurt herself !

It was a lie, too.

-Listen uh, I can't do much. If what you're telling me is false I'm risking...

-And what if it's true ?

-Then I let you call an ambulance. Listen, I can lose my job for breaking in someone's house. I won't risk that for you. So good luck and have a nice day." and he slams the door in your face.

Ambulance ? You already called one ! Multiple times ! They never believe you ! They blacklisted your number, they aren't even answering anymore. Cop ? They're useless, everyone know it. And even more with women. These asshole are saying you're fucking paranoid.

The reason you were so desperate to join your friend ? The creep had finally attacked. After days of them stalking in silence. And you think your friend was on their watch list as well. They didn't attack you in a physical way, no, they took their sweet time to violate your property by intruding. They took money and probably other things you didn't bother to check. You packed your things and now sleep in a hotel.

But your friend, she saw him, too. You were sure she was next. And maybe she already got robbed. As to why she wouldn't answer you. She was mad at you for bringing that stalker on her. You remember how confused she was...

Not a day passed without you rethinking that conversation. It was a week ago, now. Not feeling safe in your house anymore, you had both agreed to go to a place you were used to where you could eat without coming across people you knew, or one you don't. The first thing you noticed was her tensed body. She wasn't laughing with her heart. But nor were you. How could you in a situation like this ?

The new young server arrived with your drinks in hand and smiled brightly at you. You responded weakly. He was doing a summer job here, he had curly hair. You thought you already saw him at school but were not sure. He was nice anyway, always giving you straws and tissues with your commands. Which he wasn't doing with your friend. He may be the only bright element in your dark life. He left quickly, going back to work.

"You know that guy you keep seeing at your window ? she asked.

Your whole attention was back on her. Your little daydreaming stopping abruptly and you remembered your shitty situation. You thought you were going to cry.

-What about him?

-I think I saw him.

And the world stopped. Your eyes were wide, tearing holes in her. You hoped she was lying, because if she did saw him, it was bad. It was dangerous. For the both of you. Nothing around you mattered anymore, only her.

-What? You what ? When ? Where ? Did-Did he try to do something ? you stuttered, panicking completely and drowning her in your questions.

And that also mean she hid things from you. You passed your hand on your forehead, sighing. What did you do to deserve this ?

-No, god no he didn't do anything, then she added in a whisper, yet.

It was paining you. When the stalker only targetted you, it was as if it wasn't clearly real. You were the only one to suffer of the situation so, even if the odds were low, you could have thought this was a hallucination, or a isolated case, unique.

-Well ? What happened ?

She frowned, as if fighting against herself. She looked guilty.

-You know, I didn't tell you everything. Because you're already so paranoid lately, you jump at the slightest noise and your stress is really fucking worrying.

You knew everything she was going to tell you was not going to comfort you in any way. In fact, it was probably going to worsen it. The worse was already on your mind.

-The night we were supposed to meet up at my house, remember ? you nodded. The reason I cancelled was because that creep was there. He had a sign in hand, too.

-What did it say ?

-It... It's not important. Just a creepy thing to scare me, like he did with you.

She was lying. Why ? What happened ? What was written on that stupid sign ?

-He did nothing, if that's what worries you. Kept staring at me like a bitch. But uh, my boyfriend came. So I was feeling safer.

-Has he been seen by the stalker ?

-I think ? Probably, he had to park near where he was. But when...

-Fuck, call him. I.. I need to know if he saw him or...

Her hand was put on yours to retain it from shaking.

-No, I asked him. He saw nothing.

-What if your boyfriend become a target, too ?

-I don't think so.

-Why are you so sure ?

-Maybe he only attacks women ? Men usually do that. They're scared of other men.

You weren't convinced. Nor was she. You two left each other later in the day; left with a bitterness stuck in you. The night following, you two spent the nighttime on a call together. You slept in your hotel, again. Even with locked doors, windows and a knife under your pillow; you couldn't close your eyes. She was telling you that nothing would happen to any of you, that everything would be fine. And you wanted to believe her, really. But you couldn't. Not when the stalker had already made its way that deep into your lives. When finally morning appeared and she had to hang up to get ready for her shift, you were left with nothing but fear and worry.

It was your last interaction.

With the 'loss' of your friend, your sanity was only decreasing. You were alone. She was your only friend. And you missed her. You knew you were going to explode one day. You needed help. You needed support.

You needed someone.

After the tantrum you gave the concierge, you went back to your motel. Maybe if you give her time ? Maybe if you sleep the hours away ? She'll forgive you faster. So that's what you did. Two days were wasted in your room before you had to go out buying groceries.

You hadn't see the light of day in these time. You needed to be quick, your stalker could already be out there. Because of this, you were permanantly switching store. As well as motel. The last thing you wanted was to give a seemingly habit to your stalker. If you were always moving, he couldn't be used to your routine. It was the first time in a while you were happy to be unemployed. Because you weren't stuck at a same spot. Even if the money was running out.

A big and crowded store. That's what you needed. And that's where you went. It could be your best and worst idea; best since you were feeling safe surrounded by everyone. You couldn't be attacked, this way. Worst, because your stalker could be in the said crowd and you wouldn't notice them. In both cases, you were wearing an all black outfite. You wanted to blend in.

You enter the store, earphone plugged in without any sound. You had to look normal. You had to act normal. It was hard but you didn't have a choice. A baby start crying beside you and you jump, bumping into someone. You excuse yourself, head lowered as to not look at whoever angry face that was. Fuck, you needed to concentrate.

Finally, you dirige yourself towards an alley far away from the people. Well, not that far but the constant chatting and screaming of the others weren't so loud anymore. Being here had one advantages and one disadvantage. Your back was facing a wall so no one could arrive behind you without you knowing it. The disadvantage was that you were alone.

Taking a big breath, you move in the alley to start and finally complete your groceries. You were too caught up in your fear to put anything into your bag. You needed already cooked dishes. Every motel you slept in had a microwave available in the common area. Pasta box, salad or instant noodle were your every day dishes.

You jump when something fall from its shelf behind you. Your whole body freeze. Fuck, why did someone come in this alley at the same time as you ? Are you followed ? Is it them ? You're stuck, you can't run away ! What do you do ? Slowly, you turn your head toward the sound. At first, no one is here. But when you look down, someone is crouching. Swearing a little, a man picks up the bottles he seemingly dropped, replacing the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

Curly hair ?

You crouch too and help him put everything back in its place. He gets up, grabbing his strap again and place it higher on his shoulder, trying to keep it in place.

"Thank you, I'm... I'm a little clumsy." He smiles sheepishly at you.

It's the guy from the coffee. The waiter ! What is he doing here ? Right behind you ? The further you look at him, the further your worry come back. You don't really know him, now that you think about it. There was absolutely no reason for him to be this close to you. The store is big, the same items he just stumbled upon are on the opposite shelf, too.

"Are you okay ?" He asks, frowned brows and a little pout on the face.

You come back into reality at his worry. Maybe you're stressed. Maybe you think too much. It's very likely, given your situation. He's nice. He always has been to you. Why are you so distant ? The coffee not so far drom here, he probably does his shopping on his way out of work. It's 10PM(22h), after all. It's late but it's rush hour. You thought you'd blend in much better when everyone is out and running everywhere.

"I'm... I'm Ethan the guy from the coffee." He smiles bashfully while looking at the ground. His cheeks a little red.

Reason comes back at you and you smile weakly. Suddenly really aware of how awkward this must have been for him to be stared into like you did.

"Oh, yeah, I... I recognize you, hi." you're allowed to take your breath, feeling all the tension leaving your body at a friendly familar face. "How are you?"

And it hit you, curly hair. School, coffee, but also the groceries.

-Fuck you're... I made you drop your bag last time I'm... I'm sorry I wasn't...

-It's okay, he giggles sweetly, you seemed panicked so I don't blame you. It seems I have to drop something each time I see you, huh ? But... Everything okay now ?

No, no it's not.

-Yeah, yeah don't worry. Was a bad day." But your weren't going to bother him with that.

An awkward silence envelops both of you. What are you supposed to say ? Are you even supposed to say something ?

"It's nice to see you I uh... I actually tried to talk to you multiples times... We're in the same econ class, do you remember ?

You hated him for a second when he mentionned your econ class out loud. You hoped your stalker wasn't here to listen.

-Yes, of course I do Landry. We've been in the same class for three years now. You laugh a little, almost hurt he would think you don't recognize him.

-Wait, you remember ?

-I'm not good with remembering people's face but when you give me time I manage, eventually.

He laughs at your poor attempt of a joke. For a moment, he made you forget you probably were being watched. You were happy to have found one damn normal person in this big city.

"You live around here ? The building in which we saw each other last time is pretty far, I know it because I live there. I'm surprised to find you here.

You still don't know him, careful.

-Really ? I've never saw you around, we're neighbors.

It was a lie. The stare he gave you was enough to make you question every fucking things in your existence. His eyes were cold, as if empty. His face lights up mere second after, smiling brightly. Giving you the bitter impression you're going crazy. The fuck was that ?

-I live on the fourth floor. And you on the third, right ?

-What make you think that ?

-Oh, I saw you knocking at a door, last time. I actually live at the same building as your boyfriend. I'm sorry if this is rude but did he finally let you in ?

He may not be as dangerous as you think if he's giving you every piece of his life. He really is stupid for talking out loud. Someone might be listening to him. It's obvious he never been stalked !

-No, I don't live in this building. We're neighbors but I'm from the one just opposite. And that was not my boyfriend, it's a good friend.

Another lie.

-Talking about her, do you see her sometimes ? She's a little upset at me at the moment. She usually goes to work around 8AM. Maybe you saw her going out of her apartment ? you almost whisper because this time, you were telling the truth.

He looks lost at your change of tone, looking around you two to understand why you were suddenly whispering. Ignoring it, you describe her physically to him, her hair color, the way she usually dress. Even her boyfriend.

-I'm sorry I didn't saw any of them, I start my shift at 10AM so I stay inside until then. You can try and ask the others neighbors if you want.

-I've actually tried. you sigh and raise your brows for a split second. Wasn't conclusive...

-Yeah, the people here are not so kin to talking but uh I'll ask my roomate, for you, if you want.

-That'd be lovely. Really. You're really nice Ethan. Thank you."

After this, him and you started talking. He found you on a social media since you were too scared to even think telling your number to someone. Ethan started talking to you, greeting you everyday, sending picture of the sun when it was pretty. It wasn't useful but it kept the conversation going. You weren't interested in a relationship for the moment but you needed support. And if your friend had disappeared, you had no support and you were feeling your breaking point approaching. In a sense, you were using him.

Ethan was nice, really nice. But he wanted more. And you weren't sure you wanted to give it to him. It just wasn't the right time. Plus, if the stalker saw you with a man, maybe he'd leave you alone. Your motives were selfish but that's what stalking does to someone, you guess.

In parallel, you started to slide letters under your friend's door. (Ethan's idea!) Since she wasn't answering to her phone, you thought that she at least would be obligated to see the letters since they were physical.

All of them were saying you were worried, that the situation has worsened. That you needed her and if she wanted something she could ask you. Of course, there were no response. You even thought for a moment that she was on vacations but her mailbox was emptied each time news letters were in it.

Ethan was quickly starting to take a bigger place in your heart. Sometimes, you'd mention him in the letters. Saying you had met a cute man helping you. One day of every week, each time a different one, you'd come back into your apartment for clothes. And each time there was a proof the stalker had enter. Otherwise, it was the only proof they were still stalking you. Since you were always moving. You were hoping he lost track of you.

Ethan knew about the stalker, well, he knew the most important. Not every detail. He knew about your friend. He told you to file a complaint, but how ? You didn't have any proof. Often, he'd accompany you to the nearest police station and help you in your quest for freedom and justice. You were never listened to but Ethan was so kind. He was always telling you that he'd protect you. And it was true. He was protecting you. You were feeling safer when he was around.

You were feeling better with time. Except you missed your friend. But this problem seemed to be out of the way too as one day, as soon as you slided the letter under the door, a piece of paper was pushed towards you. You stared at it for whole minutes before realising what it was. A letter, coming from your friend. She had answered ! Quickly, you jump on it. It was written on a computer and then printed. Each words were like honey. After all these days without her, you were finally getting an answer!

She was slowly forgiving you !

The letter was talking about what the stalker did to her and why she was angry at you. She said that the creep had broke in and threatened to hurt her and her boyfriend. Her money was stolen but the most painful was to watch a stranger know everything about you without being able to protect yourself. She gave you news of her boyfriend, told you she had quit her work and asked you on your life as well. You couldn't proceed the situation ! You were so happy ! Getting up from your uncomfortable position on the grounds, you put your eyes against the door peephole to know if someone was in, only to see an eye already watching you. Surprised, you move away from the door. Seconds later, you look again but no one is here. Damn, that gave you the creep for a moment. Fortunately, it was her ! After all, who apart from her and her boyfriend is inside ? Your first instinct was to run towards Ethan's flat to tell him everything.

It was thanks to him after all. He gave you the idea of the letters. He's the one who got you out of the hole you were digging for yourself. You owed him so much. You were finally getting your friend back !

As smiley as you've ever been for the first time in weeks, you ring multiples times the doorbell.

A shirtless man opened the door for you. His roomate. You had never seen him. Ethan usually invite you when he's not here. You don't know his name, Ethan never bothered to tell it to you, simply referencing to him as 'my roomate'. Now feeling really uncomfortable, you simply look at him.

"Hello ? he asks first.

-Hi, is Ethan there ?

-Sorry, he left a few minutes ago. You can wait for him inside if you want. He's gonna come back."

With a nod, he moves out of the way. He lets you in the livingroom to go in the kitchen where he eats a spoon full of cereals. He's eating breakfast ? What time is it ? Looking at the clock, you learn that it's only quarter to nine (8:45). Where is Ethan ?

"So you're Ethan's girlfriend, right ?

He asks while scrolling on his phone. Awkwardly, you stay put, standing in the middle of the room.

-Oh, no no we're just friends.

-Really good friends, right? he says like he knows something you don't. He talks a lot about you so I assumed you were together already." He laughed.

You would have been uncomfortable if not for the letter your friend had given you. Nothing could get you out of your clouds.

"Oh he tells you about me?

-Too much, I feel like I already know you."

He laughs and you follow even if a little embarassed. He asks you if you want something, a drink, a snack, but you refuse. Days before, you would have been mistrustful of him as you don't know him. But he's Ethan's friend. And you trust Ehan. So you trust his friends.

The front door open and your smile return.

You turn toward the person who enterered, the letter hold tightly in your hand. Ethan doesn't see you, too preoccuped in closing the door. Finally, he lift his eyes and see you. A bright smile immediatly appears. He looks in disbelief at his roomate before staring at you again. Looking like a lovesick idiot.

"What are you doing here ?" he asks surprised with a radiant smile. He throws the mail he visibly just collected on the console next to the entrance.

The shirtless man grabs his bowl and leave the kitchen to leave you both alone. Ethan is beautiful. You only see it now. How blind were you ? He's still in his casual clothes. A red and black vichy jogging pants with a grey faded shirt. You can still discern the outline of the Shining poster on it despite the lack of color, probably due to the numerous washing. And he's breathtaking.

"You won't believe what just happened to me !

-Well, tell me. he seemed as excited as you. That was so cute and one of the numerous things you absolutely loved about him. He was always happy for you.

-She responded ! And I think I even saw her !

As if it was possible, his smile lights up. He walks straight at you and open big his arms for you to engulf into. Which you oblige. He holds you tight and close to this chest. You plunge your head in his shoulder, breath big and laugh from hapiness. He smells good. His nose takes refuge above your ear, on your temple.

"See ? I told you she wasn't mad at you !"

His hands caress your back as your smiles were indelible. You were feeling so happy, so at ease. It was your place. Everything was finally better. He laughs a breathy laugh and tighten his hold on you.

"I leave for a few minutes and this happen ! If its like that, i won't leave the house anymore!

You both chuckle. You move away from him and put your hand on his cheek, he tilts his head a little against it. Silence is what is heard for minutes, both staring into each other's eyes. A small happy smile could be seen on your faces. You slide your hand on his shoulder then lift your face to prop it in his neck. Breathing against his pulse.

-Yes, become my cute househusband. you mutter in a laugh.

-I'd be happy to oblige."

Your cheeks were hurting from how hard you were smiling. Even your prettiest dreams didn't feel like this. For a moment, he rocks you back and forth. His hand sliding under your shirt to stay put on your lower back, propagating his heat. You muttered a small 'thank you' that only he could hear. You were thanking him for everything; his support, his advices, his patience, for being him. The warmth of his body was so comforting against yours. You never want to leave.

It's the sound of porcelain clanking near you which got you out of your daydream. The shirtless man, not so shirtless anymore, put the dirty bowl in the sink. Giving you an apologetic smile, sorry to have broken the spell put on both of you. You smile at him and let Ethan go, deciding that you weren't going to make the situation awkward for his roomate by showing too much affection. You simply grab his hand that Ethan takes happily, his thumbs making small back and forth on the back of it.

"You went grab the mail ? You have a shit ton of letters ! you nod towards the console.

-It's just publicity. Too much of it.

Too much ? There is at least the mail of two different houses on that furniture ! You move towards them to better observe them but that's without counting Ethan who pulls you towards him. His hands go on your hips while yours go on his forearms, you raise a brow.

-I can throw them for you when I leave if you want. you offer.

-Don't, I'll do it.

-Are you sure ? It doesn't bother me...

-Yeah but it bother me! How can I let you do the dirty work, hm ?"

Not convinced by his false gentlemanliness, you raise a brow, a sly smirk on the face.

-Why don't you want me to just watch what you got ? you laugh. I'm curious now. Are you a subscriber of, like, a dirty magazine ? Playboy or something like that ?

-What ? No I'm not !" his face was beet red. You liked to tease him. You have regained your strength and vigor.

You rise both your hands to his face to cup his cheeks. Laughing, he tries to move out of your hold, almost curling on himself, in vain. He was playing along, of course. Ethan was surprisingly strong, so strong he could probably lift you. Your eyes were full of stars. To know he was showing you his submissive, vulnerable side was the prettiest feeling in the world. His hands takes yours to move them out of the way, his face red, he raises the back of your hand to lay his lips on it.

Fuck, you were falling, and really hard for him.

"I just want to take a look... you plead.

-Why do you insist on looking ? he asks, a brow raised, after sliding the back of your hand to his cheek.

-Why do you insist I don't ?

-Because I'm hiding a terrible secret...

-I can see that ! But you love me so much you'll tell me, right ?

He hums and plunge his head in your neck, breathing your smell. Smiling mischievously, he rubs his hair on you and tickle you. Your palms grab at his waist while he tackle you to the back of the couch. Fuck, where did he become so confident ? Okay, maybe your relation does not match with the 'friend' label... Friend definitly don't kiss each other's hand, they don't look at each other lovingly like you do, either. Nor do they tackle each other to a couch while towering so prettily like that...

-I'm in reality a ruthless criminal who steals the mail of its victim.

-Oh no! Don't steal my bills, please...

-You're too pretty to be one of my victims..." he whispers lowly close to your ear.

Finally, after several minutes of teasing, he invites you to lie on the couch. He asks you if you wants to eat something which you answer that his friend already offered. He asks for details about your interaction with your friend sooner this morning and you happily oblige. Telling him everything, even the most futile points. He was smiling during every seconds of it. Seemingly enjoying seeing you content.

"I'm so happy Ethan you don't understand. you tell him at the end of your story, breathless.

Breathless but at the same time, breathing for the first time in weeks. Breathing fresh air. Breathing after being suffocated all this time. It was so good.

-No, I think I do understand. Seeing you happy makes me happy.

You think you're ready to give him the relation he wants with you. Because you want it too, now. And you don't understand why you made him wait that long. You don't feel the danger around you as much as before, you can finally relax. You can finally have your life back.

-I mean, who in their right mind would ghost you? I wouldn't for sure ! Of course she'd talk to you again ! he smiles, stopping his joking tone. I told you everything would be fine.

Ethan's roomate comes back with a bag in hand. Interrupting you, he smiles at your proximity. He approachs his friend and tap him on the shoulder with a bright proud smile.

"I left you something in my nightstand, man. Feel free to use it anytime.

-What ?" ask a confused Ethan.

Poor boy don't get an any answer. His roomate nods to you and smile before going to the door.

-I'm leaving, have a nice day you both !" He yells in the house before slamming the door shut.

After the loud slam of the door, the only thing heard in the room is a faint static noise. Ethan moves uncomfortably on the couch, his eyes stuck to the turned off TV before him. It was weird to know you were now alone together. With his roomate gone, you only had your growing relationship and newfounds feelings with the boy in head.

"What about... We watch a movie together? For you to relax ? And to congratulate you on finally getting an answer ? he offers bashfully, almost scared you'd say no.

-Congratulate me ? You smiled brightly. I did nothing you know, she's the one who sent me an answer.

-Still, you need to relax.

-Don't you have work today ?

-Not when you're here.

-What ? You can't just do that !

-Of course I can ! You're always so stressed, he says in a more worried tone, you barely come over. Can't I be happy my... You're here with me ?

You felt at the same time a electrical shock and a pang your heart. Was he going to put a possessive pronouns before your title ? Was he going to say girlfriend ? Why did he correct himself ? You may not be together yet, but still ! Your heart was beating at high speed. You had a feeling this day with him was going to conclude on something really good.

It was an evidence you'd accept the movie offer. Ethan was sorry he didn't have any popcorn but it was really soon in the day anyway so it didn't bother you. He had put a horror movie you never heard of and by the blurb he gave you, it seemed nice.

Ethan's phone buzzed, he took a look at it and, curious, you stare at him. He sees your reaction and smile, brushing it off.

"It's nothing, it's my roomate.

-He already sent you a message ? He sure is worried. you said referencing to the fact he had litteraly left fifteen minutes ago.

-No it's not like that... These are scheduled messages. It's not really him who sends them.

-And what does it tell you?

He sighs before clocking off his phone, starting the movie. He mutters a quiet 'to do the dishes' while making himself comfortable on the couch. You smile. His rommate seems nice. You wonder why he never wanted to introduce you to him before.

Your relationship with Ethan was fast and slow at the same time. He already broke your defenses and got into your heart, you were teasing each other much more than at your starts. But despite all of this, he was still on the opposite side of the couch. He could be incredibly shy and terribly clingy in the same day.

While the movie was going, Ethan would throw some anecdotes about the scene or the actors. His passion was scary movies. It wasn't yours but you didn't hate them either, in fact, you needed pretty hard stuff to be scared of a movie. Well, after what happened, you simply need a voyeur and a stalker and you're done for. But before that you were pretty indifferent to those movies. The killer appears on the screen and Ethan jumps on the occasion to tells you about how the costume was made. Smiling, you retort to get a reaction out of him once again.

"When we look at you, it's impossible to guess you have the same taste as a serial killer.

-W-what ? I'm not a serial killer...

Not wanting to make him feel bad about his hobbys, you cut him some slack by pampering him. The last thing you wanted was to grow the distance between you.

-Of course E, I know you. You wouldn't hurt a fly. Or maybe to protect me, yeah, I could picture you getting angry for me. What a romantic you are, E. you joked, not even imaginign him getting angry for you, he was just too kind for it. You simply wanted to rassure him.

Ethan had a fond smile.

-Sometimes it seems like you do it on purpose. he puffs.

-Do what ?" you ask.

And he never responded to that. To be honest, you were mostly worried you had vexed him. You were scared of losing him after month of litteraly living thanks to him, depending on him ! His presence was mean of safety. You weren't as much harassed as before with him. You needed him.

So you grabbed your phone on the table and scrolled in your gallery, you had saved pictures that reminded you of him, pictures you found funny or just memes. You knew he put his phone on vibrate, and that the said phone was on his thigh. So you start to spam him. At first, he doesn't budge. But after the fourth vibration, he frows his brows and look at his messages. Seeing your name on the screen, he smiles and look at you. You play it innocent, making it seem like you were watching the movie but he, of course, doesn't believe you. He simply smiles at your childishness.

Knowing he was watching you, you slowly put back your phone on the table. If you were in a cartoon, you'd be whistling right now. From the corner of your eye, you see him shake his head falsely exasperated. The movie wasn't even important anymore. Ethan decided to read all the messages you had sent him. You'd hear him chuckle or ask you 'Are you serious?' on the weirdest images.

Your phone buzz, the vibration echoing in the whole table. You look at Ethan with a raised brow, thinking he had sent you something in return.

"Don't look at me like that, It's not me."

You ignore it. You didn't care what that notification was. Ethan was here and that was it. That was all you needed to know. To hear. The message owner could go to hell for all you care.

"You won't look at it ? Ethan asks anyway.

-No, why would I ?

He shrugs. Not thinking much of it, you grab your phone a second time. Ready to tell him a stupid joke about how it was your secret lover or something but your smile disappeared in a microsecond at the sight on your phone. Were you dreaming ? Were you fucking dreaming ? Or was this really a text from your best friend ? That she just sent ? Just now ? Your eyes widen, you reach out your arm to him, not quite touching him.

"Ethan Ethan Ethan Ethan, my god, my fucking god.

-What ? What ? Is everything okay ?" you didn't look at his face but his voice was scared.

With shaky hands, you click on the notification to show the message in its entirety. It was asking if you were doing okay. Following, a picture of her in her car. Your breath was erratic. The picture, in reality, seemed a little old. Her hair were shorter. But on the moment, you didn't try to question it, in fact, you didn't even notice it.

Ethan sits next to you on the couch, his arm and thigh against yours. He quickly understand the situation.

"Ask her if she's okay."

You do as you're told, too shocked to proceed any information or think by yourself for the moment. You start to feel bad for not wanting to look at the message seconds priors when she doesn't answer nor show signs she's connected.

"She doesn't respond, she's not connected. Fuck, E ! She messaged me ! you recall, not quite proceeding the whole answer stuff. This morning and now this, fuck, E.

How you could kiss him right now !

-I think it's the best day of my life. you look at him, which face was suddenly really close to yours. Ethan I'm gonna ask you a really important question.

-Wow, okay, I'm not stressing at all.

-Have you already kissed someone ?

His face progressively gets more red as his mouth closes and opens like a fish.

-L-Like on the cheek ? Or...

-On the mouth, E. A kiss, a real one. you say exasperated.

-I haven't.

He had every star of the universe in the eyes. You could pay good money to be able to stare into them every day. So Ethan was a true virigin. Never fucked, never kissed, probably never hold hand. Damn, how happy you were to be the first to do all those things to him.

-Can I kiss you, E ? the adrenaline still coursing through your veins made you ask this.

-Hell yes..." he whispers, as if waiting for this moment all his life.

You lean in and lay your lips on his. Pressing against his face, you move your hand in his curls to push him against you. His face was soft like his lips. He wasn't experienced but nor were you. You had already kissed people, of course. But you can't describe yourself as good at kissing. But god it was good kissing him. Eager, you open your mouth to slide your tongue in his. He happily folows, your teeth clinking in the process but none of you bothered. Wet and drooly sounds could be heard from your tongue licking and sucking each others.

Ethan parts from you to take a big breath. Once done, he plunges once again in the heated kiss. Your phone long forgotten on the couch fall on the ground with Ethan's moves to get closer to you. Caging you between the couch and his tall body, he plants his hands on either sides of your waist.

How you never want to part away from him...

Your fingers lift up his shirt for you to caress his hips, you feel him shudder at your touch. Ethan whimpers in your mouth when you drag your fingers higher and that's all you need to hear for you to rise to your knees. Since you're now taller, Ethan have to back his head. He hold tightly your lower back which he keeps stuck to him.

With one hand, Ethan takes the remote and turn off the TV without turning his attention from you. He leans towards you, crushing you flat against the cushions. His pelvis now between your legs. You wrap him between your thighs. Your hands pull and grab at his curly hair and by his whines, you guess he seems to like it.

Something is poking at your thigh and you search the reason, quickly to find it was his goddamn dick. He was already painfully hard. The though of him so ready for you had heat pooling to your underwear. Your hand play with the elastic of his pant, making it slam lightly against his pelvis. Ethan whimpers and rubs suddenly his cock against your pants. You bite his lips from the sensation.

He was so desperate, you loved it.

The movie on TV suddenly let out a screeching so loud it made you both jump from each other. You look at the screen only to see that the killer made another victim. When did you put the volume so loud ? Damn. Ethan stands up and laugh nervously, his lips all red and swollen from your sucking. You're hurt by the rapidity he used to get off you.

"I'm... heading to the kitchen for, uh, glass of water. You want ?" he spits in an embarassed quickness., his voice cracking a little.

You nod and he instantly disappears into the kitchen to grab two glass of water. Lying down on the couch, you try to understand exactly what happened. You kissed him, no, you made out with him. You felt his dick against you ! He humped you !

You're finally going crazy, aren't you ? Man, what if the stalker killed you already and you're just imagining all that ? Nevertheless, the wet sensation in your underwear really was real. Maybe he's just getting shy again ? You know about his quickly embarrassed demeanor, you just didn't think he'd feel shame after grinding on and kissing you in, such a dirty way. It's kind of late to be ashamed.

Ethan comes back, walking weirdly. His legs not quite closing like usual to take a step. Oh, yeah. of course with his hard on bothering him. He just place the glass on the table and back from it as quickly as he came. You look at him, eyes full of questions. Is he disgusted ? Scared ? Is he really just shy ? You were scared he regretted kissing you.

Ethan stares at the tv, well, he was faking it. He was still standing after all, and side eyeing you. Looking for your reactions. Sipping on his glass of water as if it was fine wine. Shoulders almost hunched before.

"I love that movie.

-So we're not gonna talk about it at all?"

He stays silent. Fuck. You ruined everything, didn't you ? Ethan was standing awkwardly before you. He pulls at his pants to loosen it, the pression probably hurting his now bigger cock. He looks at the ground, neck and ear bright red. His other hand puts his curl back in place.

"Do you regret it ? you ask, pained.

He says no in a voice similar to a child who'd been scolded. Then, he looks at you for a mere second before lowering his gaze once again. Ethan smiles sadly.

"It's just..."

You nod, making him understand that you were listening.

"That was kind of awkward. Seeing you were hurt, he panicks. N-no! Not like that ! Not because of you or... Or like that or anything. Like. It kind of was my first kiss. And, you know. I'm not really good at it and all. And I kind of drooled on you and that wasn't as romantic as I thought it would be. And I made sounds I didn't even know I was capable of, you see? I was thinking we'd have a cute picnic or something and it would have been cute and... Now it was just messy and horny. Which was good, too but, uh, yeah...

You're speechless after such a letting go of emotions.

-Fuck, I always ruin everything, right ? he adds, laughing bitterly.

-Ethan... you sigh, getting up from the couch. You don't have to be embarrassed. I liked the kiss, I would have liked it as long as it was with you.

He nods shyly. Suddenly really aware of his low self esteem, which you were already knowing of, you feel sympathy for the boy. You put your glass on the table and walk to him, taking his own glass of water, you put it away and keep your attention on him. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile. Laying a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips. Flustrered, he tries to hide his face but fail.

"You're such a cutie." you tell him.

How happy you were to have such an angel as Ethan by your side. He had pratically saved your life. He truly was a gift from heaven. That's what you needed after all the terrifying things that happened, a cute nerdy but safe man who'd protect you.

----------------------------------------------------

Part 2

me when characters experience the devastating consequences of their own actions:

”But writing fics is my way to cope / I worked hard on this”

I never said that YOU should stop writing but please dont be an ignorant who turning a blind eye about everything that is happening right now.

“But I’ve been wanting to post my next fic”

okay sure but did you add IMPORTANT LINKS to your fics? that is the LEAST YOU CAN DO!

please put any links about palestine so that people be more aware about it, especially about the global strike that will be going on FEB 18 until FEB 25

also, please READ and UNDERSTAND it

FOR THE AUTHOR IN THIS APP especially to all tlou authors !!

more links to educate yourself :

LEARNING ABOUT PALESTINE

WAYS YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE

MORE INFORMATION ABOUT PALESTINE

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸

MY LADY

yandere! knight x princess reader

pronouns used: she/her

warnings: yandere, jealousy, afab reader, sexism/misogyny :(, not safe for work, semi-nudity, nonconsensual kissing/touching,

For as long as you could remember, you’d dreamed of one day leaving your kingdom behind to pursue a simpler life. You adored your people, of course, but the fantasy of running off and becoming a knight had always tugged at your heart.

It was destined to only stay a dream. As the princess, you had a duty to fulfil, and you owed it to your people and your family to stick to it.

You’d spent so many nights staring longingly from your bedroom window, watching as the head knight, your personal bodyguard, Aleron, train with his sword. The way his wrist flicked the weapon so gracefully, you envied him.

In fact, you’d selected Aleron to be your primary guard in hopes that he’d teach you a thing or two if you asked, that he’d be more willing to help you since he was closer to your age than any of the others.

Unfortunately, he was the same as all the other guards you’d ever been assigned, whining on and on about how “You’re far too delicate to learn such a violent art!” and so on.

You didn’t understand. Your brother, the prince, had been attending sword fighting lessons since he could walk, and was never told he was too “fragile” or “precious” to fight.

As you grew older, you began to accept your position in life, even if you were miserable. As you grew up, Aleron was right by your side, growing alongside you.

“Good morning, my lady.” He called out from outside your bedroom, tapping his knuckles to the door. “Are you awake?”

“I’m up!” You called back, sighing as you struggled to pull on your gown. You cursed under your breath, groaning and throwing your arms down.

“Is something the matter, my lady?”

“I can’t get my dress on!” You complained, fighting the urge to pick up the fabric and burn it. You huffed. “Could you find one of the maids to help me, please?”

“I would love to, my lady, but the entire staff is helping the prince prepare for his coronation.”

You felt your fingers twitch, aching, burning to punch something. You’d always been a secondary priority, always in your brother’s shadow.

“The entire staff?” You asked, pressing your forehead against the door. “Are you positive?”

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry. Would you like me to—“

“Aleron, just let yourself in.” You sighed, pulling up the dress that laid at your feet and backing away. He opened the door, only to immediately drop his sword.

He stumbled backwards, his face rapidly heating up, a red hot blush covering his entire body. “M-My Lady—“

“Here. All you must do is tie these ribbons in the back.” You instructed, pulling the dress up your legs.

He didn’t respond, merely ogling at the sight of his beloved princess. He’d never had the honor of seeing anybody dressed in such a manner, especially you. Being royalty, you were always dressed in long dresses and frilly nightgowns.

He’d never so much as seen your ankles.

“Aleron, are you alright?”

“Y-yes, of course, I apologize.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his gloves, standing behind you. He lifted your dress up, nimble fingers working swiftly to fasten the ribbons. “All done, my lady.”

“You do know you can call me Y/N, don’t you?” You asked, turning around to face him.

“Yes, but that would be incredibly disrespectful. I’m in no position to regard you with such casualty, my lady.”

You fought back your umpteenth sigh and nodded. “Right, well, thank you for your help. I hope my body wasn’t entirely nauseating.”

You giggled a bit to yourself, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Lord, of course not, my lady! Pardon me for saying so, but your body is absolutely perfect, I assure you!” He insisted passionately.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly and he swore his heart melted in his chest. “Now, you’d ought to head to my brother’s coronation, haven’t you?”

“My lady, aren’t you going to attend?”

You glanced away. “I’ll be there shortly. I have to finish getting ready.”

He reluctantly nodded and disappeared down the hall. You let your shoulders slump and you quickly kicked off your heels, replacing them with a pair of your brother’s shoes that you’d stolen from his bedroom the night prior.

You turned to the vanity, grabbing an old cloak from the tabletop and slinging it on over your shoulders.

You carefully made your way out back, entering the garden. Everybody was all to busy preparing to crown your brother as king, so it was entirely empty.

You smiled giddily, prepared to start your life. You held the cloak closer to your body, protecting it from the autumn breeze, and began to run.

You reached the garden gates and began climbing, only to gasp at the sound of somebody calling for you.

“My lady!?”

The voice startled you, causing you to lose your hold on the gate and fall. It was only a short distance, you would have scuffed your dress at the most, but regardless, Aleron rushed to your aid, catching you in his arms.

“Aleron!” You exclaimed in horror, pushing his shoulders as he set you down on your feet. “I thought you were heading to the ballroom for—“

“I heard your footsteps going down the hall and I knew something must have been going on. Tell me, what is your plan? Where are you going?”

You felt your emotions heighten. All you wanted was to be free from your brother’s reign.

“I am going to flee the kingdom.” You confessed, looking down at your gloved hands. “You must promise me that you won’t tell anybody!”

He blinked before kneeling down on one knee, grabbing your hand. “My lady, please, come with me, let us return to the castle. Let us attend your brother’s coronation and—“

“No!” You argued, pulling your hand away and turning around, turning your back to him. “I won’t stand by and watch my brother rule over me! I won’t allow it! I have been stuck in his shadow from the moment I was born, Aleron, I won’t do it any longer! I want to run away and become a swordsman!”

“My lady, please, you have no idea what you’re saying!”

“Yes, I do! I am sick and tired of being treated like a fragile doll!” You shouted, facing him once again. He was standing upright now, and you poked him in the chest roughly. “I am much more than a princess! My bones are not glass! I am not weak! I am—“

He suddenly sweeped you off your feet, carrying you bridal style. You glared at him, the look in your eyes breaking his heart into a million little pieces.

“Put me down! You won’t change my mind!”

“I won’t watch as you get yourself killed, my lady. Swordmanship is dangerous, and traveling outside the kingdom even more so. Many kingdoms would do sick, twisted things upon getting their hands on you, my princess!”

“Why won’t you listen to me!?” You grabbed his shoulders roughly, but his armor protected him from your sharp nails.

“I hate to see you so angry with me, my lady, but I’m only trying to protect you-“

“Protect me!? You’re out of your mind!”

“My lady, please, relax. What you need is to lay down and have some tea.”

You struggled and thrashed, but your knight was far stronger than you’d ever be. He brought you back to your bedroom, door agape from your escape.

He closed it behind him and placed you in your bed.

“It isn’t fair.” You whispered, bringing your knees to your chest and burying your head against them. “I hate it here!”

He frowned, his heart shattering at the sight of your tears. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” You argued, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “I want to be strong, like you! It’s all I’ve ever wanted for my entire life! Why should my brother have the best of both worlds while I’m restrained to one!? It’s not fair!”

He sat down beside you, brushing your hair soothingly, as though comforting a child having a tantrum. “I understand how you feel, my lady, and I sympathize, but you don’t need to be as strong as I am, because you have me. You will never need my strength as long as I’m around. I will defend you until my last breath.”

“You don’t get it… I don’t want you I want to be you!”

Aleron sighed and cupped your tear-stained face in his hands. “My lady, don’t cry, don’t long to be somebody you aren’t. You’re perfect.”

“It’s not about that—!”

“I need you by my side, my lady.” He insisted, tilting your chin up. His entire body was shaking with exhilaration. He’d never dared be so bold as to touch you so carelessly, and yet, here he was. “Without you, I am without a true purpose. You are the only one I want to serve for the rest of my life.”

He slowly inched closer to you, until you were pushed back and he was sat on top of you, straddling your waist and brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “My lady… please, stay. Allow me to protect you until the day I perish. Let me bask in your presence until I am long gone.”

He carefully removed his helmet, placing it delicately on your nightstand. He turned his gaze back to you, moving his face closer to yours.

“Aleron, what are you talking about? And please, get off of me, I don’t want to be bothered right now—“

“You don’t see it? I’m saying I love you, my lady. I crave your existence, your touch, your words, your body, and your soul.” His breath hitched in his throat. He’d never intended to share his feelings for you, but you’d gotten him so passionate, so many emotions fueled by you that they began pouring out without his consent.

“You should go.” You mumbled, attempting to sit up and push him away.

He grunted, instinctively grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the mattress. “My lady, please, let’s talk about what I’ve just told you.”

“Get off of me, Aleron.”

“You are my goddess, my entire world, I grovel at the floor you walk on!” He cried, pressing his body closer to yours. Your noses were practically touching, and his lips hovered just above yours.

Every inch of his body was red with embarrassment, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. It felt so right… so perfect being so close to you.

“All I want is for you to let me love you, my lady, my beautiful lady.” He whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped against his lips, slapping his back and flinging your knees up in hopes of knocking him off, but to little avail.

He only pulled you closer, tilting his head further, soaking up the taste of your lips. His head was clouded with your taste and scent, heart hammering against his chest.

Aleron only dared part from your lips when he felt he may explode with excitement. You glared at him, teary eyed and red faced. “How dare you?” You cried, putting a hand on his face to push him away weakly. “How dare you? I don’t understand—“

He smiled. “That was my first kiss, my lady. It was always destined to be shared with you. My life is yours, I am putty in your hands. Please, say you love me, even if it’s a lie.”

“Guards!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. He frowned.

“They’re all preparing for the coronation, they can’t hear you… please, is my love so wrong? We grew up together, my lady, we’re friends. We’re soulmates. Don’t leave me over this, not now.”

“You’re sick in the head!”

“Sick with my adoration for you, my lady. My lady.” He sighed, burying his head in the crook of your neck, hands wandering to your hips. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hold you like this…”

You could only cry into his shoulder, too weak to fight him off.

Dano!Riddler: Oh my god, it’s (y/n)! I’m in love with them!

The Coffee Barista: Oh that’s so sweet! How long have you guys been going out?

Dano!Riddler: No we’re not going out. I’ve never even talked to them

Make this bitch go ooga booga

Shitty Headcannon for SDJ, this dude would be the fuckin best person to do Halloween with. Just throw a sheet on him (assuming he is similar in physical properties to a ghost/it being implied he can control his forms somewhat).

Bro even better yet, just give him a cat to carry. Mf can just be a floating cat for Halloween!

Random avatar texts :) 3

Well I really like your writing ! I'm happy to make you happy 😁

Hello, Stranger

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader

For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’

Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…

CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆

WC: ~6.2k

A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!

(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)

Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.

“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”

No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...

You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.

And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.

So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?

By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.

People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…

You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.

The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.

You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.

One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?

You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.

The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.

The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.

The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.

One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.

Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.

It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.

“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”

You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.

His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.

He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,

“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).

He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.

Oh, he’s actually really cute.

“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.

He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.

You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:

“Did you find everything you need?”

“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”

You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.

He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.

You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.

You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…

When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.

He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.

Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…

“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.

Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.

The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.

You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…

You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)

But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.

Would it?

It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.

Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.

“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.

“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.

“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”

You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?

“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.

The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.

“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”

‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?

“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…

As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.

No, don’t be silly…

You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.

Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”

“Huh?”

“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”

The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.

Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.

“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”

You look a little quizzical.

He thinks for a moment.

“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”

You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.

Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”

Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.

“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”

He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.

“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”

“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”

You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.

What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.

As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.

Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…

You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:

E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969

It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).

You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.

He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.

You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”

“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.

“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”

Lighter? Easier to aim?

“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.

“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.

“Umm, you want some help choosing?”

He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.

“Y’know, you really know your tools!”

You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”

You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”

You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”

You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.

You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?

The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.

Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.

You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?

Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.

He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.

He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.

“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”

You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.

The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.

That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?

But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.

The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.

To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,

“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”

Wait, is he blushing?

“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”

He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.

“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”

He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.

Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.

Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.

Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.

“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.

You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.

He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”

Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.

Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.

Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)

With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.

The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.

You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.

“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”

Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!

He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).

“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”

You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.

You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.

He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.

As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.

He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.

“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”

“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.

You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.

“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.

Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.

He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.

“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”

It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.

His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.

Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).

He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.

He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.

This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.

“What size branches?”

He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”

“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”

He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!

He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.

“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”

You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.

“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”

Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.

Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.

Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!

As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.

Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.

‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…

You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?

Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?

Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.

“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”

So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-

You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.

“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”

On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.

As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.

“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”

“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”

Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.

“A-heema-whatnow?”

You snicker.

“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.

He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.

With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”

The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.

“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”

You contemplate for a moment.

“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”

“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”

You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”

You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.

“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.

“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”

“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”

Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.

“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”

More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”

Oh my, is he blushing again?

“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”

“You would?”

Okay, he’s definitely blushing.

He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,

“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”

Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”

He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.

He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.

“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”

You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,

“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”

“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”

“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”

You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.

“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”

As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.

“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”

If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!

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Jujutsu Kaisen 0 (2021) + letterboxd reviews